


Viraag

by LadyCookieCupcake



Series: marvel stories [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Lack of Communication, M/M, Reader (Gender-Neutral) - Freeform, Secrets are Revealed, Swearing, secrets are kept
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 18:08:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15801864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCookieCupcake/pseuds/LadyCookieCupcake
Summary: How was it possible to feel this tired over someone? How was it possible to feel thisbroken?or the one where communication fails and relationship problems are caused because of it.





	Viraag

**Viraag _(Hindi - India) /vi-rag -_**

**_'the emotional pain felt due to being away from the one you love.'_ **

 

 

 The door opened on the second knock after a woman’s voice shouted from behind it to ‘hold on a second’.

   You tried not to let your disappointment show when you smiled, Aunt May appearing in front of you in all her apron-wearing glory. She smiled back, hers a more genuinely-happy one and beckoned you in.

   “I didn’t know you were coming, otherwise I would have ordered dinner instead of making it.” Aunt May jokes and you laugh along with her, trying not to look as if you were sneaking glances towards a certain boy’s room. You failed.

   “Go on,” Aunt May says with that smile of hers that spoke of nostalgic days, of remembering herself in your position. You sincerely hoped that was not the case. “He’s his room and I haven’t managed to get him out for the whole day; a project’s due or  _ something _ . Maybe you can get him out.”

   You nod, unsure, and walk to the door. You hesitate for a split second, wondering if you should knock or if it’d be pointless; this was, after all, your boyfriend but maybe a warning would be nice. Knock and then walk in. Catch him off guard. Don’t give him a chance to lie again.

   Deciding to do exactly that, you knock once, sharply, and open the door. You quickly slip inside and look around.

 He wasn’t there. Of course, he wasn’t.

 Was he ever?

   You sat down on his bed, felt the soft fabric of his duvet. You leaned down, resting a body that felt too weary all of a sudden, smelling the smell that reminded you of him. How was it possible to feel this tired over someone? How was it possible to feel this  _ broken _ ? You knew Peter wasn’t even aware of it - he wasn’t cruel enough to know about it and still do it. He was just oblivious and maybe that was worse, maybe the fact that he was too distracted to notice he was pushing you away made your heart break faster and harder than it would were he to be as cruel.

   Your eyes slipped close as you felt that familiar sting in them, and you buried your face further into the pillows. Maybe if you buried yourself deep enough, the hurt will just disappear.

   “(Y/N)?” You heard that familiar, gentle voice and froze. Oh. So, he was back. Finally. You didn’t even hear the door open, though.

   “(Y/N), what’s wrong?” A hand followed the question and you tensed. You couldn’t help it; the comfort that hand once brought you no longer existed. That touch only served to remind you of all the touches he never seemed willing to give to you anymore.

   You slowly sat up and shrugged his hand off, wiping your eyes. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed he was only wearing a shirt but you didn’t take it in. You didn’t care. Suddenly, you didn’t care if he was naked, if he saw your tears, if he wondered. Let him. It won’t make any difference.

   “Darling, what’s wrong?” Peter asked, concern - actual _fucking_ concern - in his voice, and that was the final straw. How dare- how fucking **_dare_** he act like he gives a shit after avoiding you for months? Without no explanation? Without no warning? Just there one second, gone the next?

   You spun around on him and glared, eyes narrowed with the fire you’ve had burning in you since the beginning of all of this. Peter startled, eyes widening in his bewilderment, and he looked as if he’s going to back up. He doesn’t. It annoys you more, oddly enough.

   “Really?” You hiss, “ _ Really _ ? You’re just going to sit there and act like nothing’s happened?” Your voice raises with each word until you’re shrieking it but you don’t care. So what if the neighbours hear? So what if Aunt May hears? All you want is to make sure  _ Peter _ hears. He’s the only one that matters, that’s  _ ever  _ mattered.

 Peter stares with confusion and - dare you say - a little hurt.

 Why is  _ he _ hurt?

 It’s not as if you matter anymore.

   “W-what are you talking about? What have I done?” He questions, a crease in-between his eyebrows beginning to form, and you stood, began to pace and folded your arms over your chest - anything to placate the urge to scream more. It wouldn’t do anything but annoy you further, and maybe even hurt your throat.

   You had so much to say, so many thoughts you wanted to get rid of, to make him aware of it but now… now your mind is just empty, devoid of everything,  _ numb _ almost.

 Now that you finally had him here, listening, all you could do was pace.

   You huffed and stopped, closing your eyes. You took in a couple of deep breaths, holding them for a few seconds before letting go.

_  Sit down, stop pacing, and just calm down _ .

   Pacing won’t accomplish anything, as won’t becoming emotional. It doesn’t matter if you’ve had the emotions building up in you since the beginning of all of this. You need to talk to him like an adult, like a proper grown up, and find out why he’s been avoiding you.

   And if he still refuses to answer, still continues to avoid you, well, then you give up. You break it off, be the first one to do so before he can, before he breaks your heart further.

   Once your heart had calmed its rapid pounding, you sat in his desk chair and looked to the floor. You spared one glance to Peter before quickly looking away. You could see the confusion, the almost skittish look, as if he was getting ready to bolt were you to shout again, and sure, maybe you did deserve that - you  _ had _ just erupted on him suddenly - but was he really that, well, oblivious to not know why you were angry?

   You sighed quietly and leaned back onto the chair, still straight back, arms still folded but if you were going to talk, you at least wanted to be as comfortable as possible - or at least not slouching.

   “(Y/N)?” Peter asks, quietly, as if afraid his voice alone will make your snap again. You continue to look at the floor, blinking to rid yourself of the blur in your eyes. You won’t cry, you  _ won’t _ .

   “I’m pissed,” And wasn’t  _ that _ an understatement? “I’m pissed and I’m annoyed and I’m- I’m  _ scared _ . I’m scared you’re slipping away, I’m scared of losing you and of not knowing why. I won’t know if it’s something I’ve done or you’ve done, or if it’s just something I can’t control. I’m annoyed you won’t tell me and I’m pissed...at everything.”

   That wasn’t enough. It was never going to be enough; there weren’t enough words, enough understanding to  _ really _ describe how you felt about this whole goddamn situation but you’d said something. You let your thoughts take over, and though it may not have made sense, you finally released something. It was the beginning, at least.

   You waited for a response, and after a couple of minutes of silence, you looked up to see Peter’s reaction. You were kind of afraid to, to see what e was thinking, to see if maybe he didn’t care as much as you thought, to see if maybe he hadn’t even listened.

   His face was doing something weird. You couldn’t really describe it had you needed too. It was a frown but too soft, a grimace but too happy. It looked sheepish and guilty and hurt all in one and it did nothing good for the butterflies in your belly nor the bile slowly climbing your throat.

 You weren’t sure what to make of it.

   Peter looked away, down at the floor like it was the most interesting thing in the universe, and his hands began to fiddle for a second or two before he realised and stopped them.

 “Peter?” You asked but trailed off. What could you say? You weren’t even sure what was going on anymore.

   There was a moment of silence before Peter suddenly stood and walked over to his closet. He hesitated and you hesitated too, still wondering what was going on, wondering if this was the moment he broke up with you, finally told you how he felt. Did you really want to hear it? After all of this, did you really want to hear how much he  _ didn’t _ like you?

   “I wasn’t sure how to go about this, or if I even should. This isn’t easy.” Peter begins before trailing off, the hesitance clearer the more he spoke. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists, as if unsure what to do.

 You sat silently, unsure yourself.

   Finally, Peter decided to just open the door. He disappeared inside and you could hear the sounds of hangers clinking about as they were shifted this way and that. When Peter seemed to find what he was looking for, he came back out and over to you.

  He placed the pile of clothing into your hands and walked back to his bed. He avoided looking at you.

   Raising an eyebrow, you looked down and took in the red and blue. What exactly was it thought? Well, obviously, it was some sort of clothing but  _ what _ ?

_  I mean, it looks vaguely familiar, _ you thought,  _ but I don’t know what it could be _ .

   You decided to unfold it and did just that, holding it out by the shoulders to properly see it- and you saw something that just confused you further.

 It was...Spider-Man’s costume?

   As in the masked vigilante known for helping with crimes the ‘big shot’ heroes never have time with? The 'friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man'? The arachnid superhero?  _ That _ arachnid superhero? Well, he was the only arachnid superhero you knew of but  _ still _ , it was a  _ superhero’s _ outfit.

 And Peter had it?

   How? Why? Did he know Spider-Man? How, if so? And what did it have to do with you? Was Spider-Man the reason Peter had been avoiding you? But why-?

 A dawning realisation practically slapped you in the face with how sudden the thought came.

 The only way that would matter was if Peter was- but no, he wouldn’t- would he? But why-?

 You looked back up to see Peter avoiding your gaze and you took a deep breath.

 All right, so Peter  _ was _ Spider-Man...right? Is that what this all meant?

 “Peter-,” You paused and then decided a different route, “So, you’re Spider-Man?”

 Peter looked up, startled. As if he was surprised you said such a thing.

 He gulped before nodding.

 “And you didn’t tell me because?” You trailed off, hoping he would explain and it would be a good explanation.

 Peter seemed to hesitate before sighing, rubbing a hand over his face.

   “It’s a dangerous job, (Y/N), and not just for me. I put everyone in danger by simply  _ knowing _ me. If anyone found out what you were to me-,” He cut himself off, seemingly startled at his own words, and then a blush formed on his cheeks.

   You stared wide-eyed at the admission, unsure what to do or say. Of course, you knew he loved you; he was freakin’ dating you, after all. Peter wasn’t the type of guy to just date for the fun of it, especially not if he wasn’t sure he loved that person. But to hear  _ that _ , that you mean enough to him that the thought of harm or death coming to you is heartbreaking… it’s one thing to know you mean something to someone, to actually  _ hear _ them admit it is something else.

   The silence continued on, neither one of you sure of what to say.

 You sighed and decided you needed to do  _ something _ if you wanted anything to progress.

_    And besides, I need to apologise _ , you reminded yourself. You needed to apologise for assuming, for getting angry, for not just simply asking what was going on.

 You stood from the desk chair and moved to sit beside him, hesitating for only a second before actually doing so. Peter turned to you with his usual puppy-confused look and you couldn’t help but smile. He was adorable...and kind and so very sweet. How could you have gotten angry at him? How could you have thought the worst?

 Of course, you wouldn’t have thought of Spider-Man but still…

   “I want to apologise, for earlier, for getting angry and annoyed, for shouting.” You said. You could feel the embarrassment build up at the earlier memory, and couldn’t bare looking at Peter. You looked down to your lap where your folded hands lay, resisting the urge to twiddle your thumbs.

   “I just- didn’t know what was going on. I should’ve asked. Of course, I hadn’t expected  _ that _ .” You joked, looking up at the red-and-blue suit.

 Peter chuckled and you looked over. He looked a little sheepish, a little guilty.

   “Yeah, it’s not something anyone  _ would _ expect.” He answered, “I’m glad I’ve told you now though. I’m glad you’re taking this well.”

 You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

 “How did you expect me to take this?”

 He shrugged, looking away. Panicky, probably; upset even.

   You weren’t though. Maybe you should’ve been, maybe you should have felt at least a little bit of panic. But really, you were just relieved, relieved it wasn’t you, relieved it wasn’t something that couldn’t be fixed.

   “Well, I’m glad you told me too. Now I know, I can prepare. You won’t have to worry, I’ll be able to protect myself.” You said with determination, and although Peter looked as if he wanted to argue, he smiled and nodded because he knew, as much as you did, you were strong. He didn’t need to worry, though he probably would. Peter Parker was a worrywart through and through; he always had been and always would be.

   You leaned in and he turned to give you better access. Your lips met in a soft but eager kiss, and you felt how it once had been, the relationship slowly mending itself with that one, simple kiss.

   The door suddenly opened and you both instinctively shot backwards, away from each other, to see Aunt May leaning in the doorway, her arms crossed and a smile on her face.

   She didn’t give away anything and you weren’t sure if she had heard, but she didn’t look unhappy or angry. In fact, she looked almost relieved.

   “C’mon, I’ve ordered takeaway and it’s getting cold.” She said simply before walking away, leaving the door open. You sighed in relief. She wasn’t angry. No matter whether she had heard or not, she wasn’t angry.

   Peter stood and took your hand, leading you out of his room and to the dining table. Though the night hadn’t turned out great, you were glad it was settled. You finally knew the truth and that was going to bring you two a lot closer, you were sure.

 You smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! :D  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. :D
> 
> Here's my [Tumblr](https://ladycookiecupcake.tumblr.com)


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